


Canyon Broken by Cloud

by cerie



Category: Arctic Air, Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, First Time, Sharing Body Heat, Snowbound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanctuary/Arctic Air crossover; Krista Ivarson isn't really sure where this Magnus woman gets off acting like she owns the place but she never turns down a charter.  Magnus/Krista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canyon Broken by Cloud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windandthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/gifts).



Krista’s not sure who the VIP is or why they’re all running around like crazy people but when someone’s got _Mel_ nervous, she knows it has to be big. It’s not the guy from Margate, Bobby always handles that and Bobby’s in Vancouver, and she hardly thinks they’re getting a celebrity up here in Yellowknife when it’s minus 30 and threatening snow.

All she knows is that Mel’s _not_ flying when the doctor’s grounded him for his blood pressure and Miss High and Mighty still wants to fly to Ulukhaktok when the weather’s turning bad. Actually, she’s arguing with Mel now, going toe to toe with him, and Krista’s mildly impressed that she’s taking on the infamous Mel Ivarson in a fight and not expiring from sheer exasperation. Looking around at the peanut gallery, she guesses the rest of Arctic Air finds it pretty impressive too.

“If you won’t actually let me hire one of your pilots and a plane to make this trip I would be more than happy to buy a plane from you. How much does a DC-3 go for these days, Mel? I’ll pay you triple. I need to go to this community and I would infinitely prefer to have an experienced Arctic bush pilot fly me rather than go alone. Of course, if you can’t be bothered...”

Mel starts blustering again and his whole face turns red. Krista’s pretty sure he’s going to give himself an aneurysm sooner rather than later and she wants to step in but she’d _just_ promised to stop nagging him. Just promised. It’s still a little too raw for her to be backing down on that so for the moment, she’s just gonna watch and see how this strange English woman handles Mel bloody Ivarson.

“You are _not_ flying one of my planes, woman. Last time you did that, you ended up crashing and burning and costing me a week’s pay. No way. Krista? Get Astrid to fly to Norman Wells and you take _her_ to...where the hell was it? To Ulukhaktok. You’re going to have to stay overnight, weather’s bad.”

Krista wants to smart off and remind Mel that she _knows_ the weather’s bad because she’s the one who didn’t want him flying in it but instead, she puts on her best smile and offers her hand to the client. She might as well make as nice as she can, especially if she’s going to be staying overnight with her...or at least spending enough time with her to get her to Ulukhaktok and go find the nearest bar to drink off the blizzard.

Krista knows the North. She knows how to fly true when the snow’s gone whiteout and the engines are about to drop because it’s gone to minus 40 outside but flying, in a way, is kind of like interacting with people too. Sometimes you have a plane you’ve got to warm up, to coax, and sometimes you get one that you can push that’s never going to complain. Krista figures this client isn’t going to be one of the easy ones but once she’s up in the air and it’s all instruments and clear blue skies, she’ll be all right.

“Krista Ivarson. Why the hell do you want to go up there, anyway? Nothing but Inuit and caribou up there which, both are great things, but not so much on the functional. Are you looking for diamonds?” It happens, venture capitalists who come north looking for the glitter of diamonds and the promise of making money hand over fist. It might be oil, too, but it’s not as common in the area where she’s going. Krista doesn’t peg her for either of those, though, and she feels confident in that choice when the woman introduces herself.

“Ah, no. Dr. Helen Magnus. This is strictly a research trip, I’m afraid.” Krista’s not sure what there is to research up there but scientists find all sorts of shit. She’s mostly in it for the contract and helping Mel, who doesn’t need the stress this woman has clearly brought to the table today. She’s high-strung, this Magnus, and Krista wants to get her the hell out of here before Mel starts to suffer for it.

Still, it’s not Krista’s place to judge and she nods quickly for Magnus to get her things and follow her. She’ll need a co-pilot. She’d prefer Astrid, since she can’t have Mel, but Mel’s assigned Astrid to do the Norman Wells run. Which leaves Blake, who’s just come back off med leave and Bobby which...even if he wasn’t in Vancouver, Krista wouldn’t willingly let Bobby behind the stick in the middle of a storm. That’s just asking for it.

Krista’s just about to ask if Blake can run to Norman Wells so Astrid can come along but Magnus’s face makes her change her mind. She catches a glimpse of Astrid and just pales, all the color draining from her face and Krista knows there’s got to be a story there, somehow, and she doesn’t want to know. Magnus can fly, apparently, and if she’s just a co-pilot, there’s no chance the plane’s going down.

It takes a hell of a lot more than a blizzard to down a bird that Krista Ivarson’s flying.

***

They’re up in the air for a good forty-five minutes before Krista’s comfortable enough to knock back her headphones and actually get a good look at Magnus. She’s tall, with porcelain pale skin and fine features that look like they belong on an actress and not a scientist. Nothing about this woman reads scientist to Krista and she’s seen all kinds - scrawny guys, balding men, nerdy, mousy girls. She’s never seen a _scientist_ breeze into Yellowknife looking like she ought to be the queen of England and yet, here she is. What bothers her more is that she apparently knows Mel but Krista’s never seen the woman in her life. And then the whole Astrid thing...she doesn’t even want to touch that.

“So, what are you? Geologist? Whale migratory patterns? Polar bears?” Magnus looks a little shocked and she laughs and shakes her head. She has a nice laugh, actually, even if the rest of her is hard to read and Krista kind of wants to hear it again. Maybe it’ll happen. It’s not like it’s a short trip from Yellowknife to Holman (and no, Krista’s never going to get used to the name change. It’s still Holman even if the Inuit name is better.)

“Ah, yes, actually I’m studying migratory patterns of Arctic birds. Quite boring, I’m afraid, and I won’t trouble you with it. Your father used to always shut me up quite effectively when I began to ramble about my research.” Magnus starts smiling and Krista kind of doesn’t want to know. Her father’s always been kind of private about that stuff, thank God, and she thinks it would complete shatter her worldview if another woman tried to insert herself into the Ivarson household with any regularity.

She’s not really interested in Arctic birds either, unless by birds they mean DC-3’s, and she appreciates that Magnus isn’t going to bore her to death with it. She’s more interested in where a lady like her learned to fly and while her attention’s back on the cockpit, the instruments and the open sky she’s got enough skill in multi-tasking to keep asking questions. It makes the flight go by faster, anyway, and hopefully she can get Queen Helen to keep talking. This is a lot easier when Bobby’s along; Bobby Martin could talk to a stick and have it stand up and ask him what the weather was like down south.

“What’s with Astrid? Did she steal your boyfriend or something? I mean, Astrid’s _Astrid_ but she’s harmless, I promise. I’ve never seen Astrid do anything to intentionally hurt someone.” Sometimes she and Astrid don’t really gel but Krista chalks it up to Astrid being, well, Astrid and the whole foreign country thing. A lot of things get lost in translation and, weirdly, she thinks Astrid and Dev might have more in common than one might think at first glance.

“Ah, no. She just reminded me of someone I knew, once,” Magnus says and her voice is soft and kind of faraway. Krista figures she won’t touch it, then, because it’s got to be a lot more traumatic than just a boyfriend or something trivial like that. Still, Krista can’t let it go entirely because as much as she tries to be gruff and Ivarson about everything, she’s softer than that and hearing that hurt note in Magnus’s voice makes her hurt, stupid as it might be. She doesn’t do so well with emotions for all she wants to have them and, for now, it’s easier to focus on the flight.

It’s a good thing she shifts, though, because the storm that’s supposed to be miles away is right on top of them now and they’ve gone from clear skies to zero visibility in no time flat It happens like that sometimes, especially when they get funnelled between the mountains, and Krista can go on instinct to fly through the snow so long as the wind doesn’t get her. But it _does_ , it always does and protip: flying a DC-3 through a howling snowstorm is like shaking a toy plane in a snowglobe. They are well and truly fucked.

“Need a little help, here,” Krista say tersely, giving the plane all she’s got and praying that the damn engines don’t fall out before she can get her down. It’s harrowing, flying like this, but she lives for it and Magnus seems to as well. That sad, faraway look’s gone from her eyes and she’s all business and everything Krista could ever want in a co-pilot. She’s damn good in a crisis, this Magnus, and Krista has got to ask Mel how he knows her and how he let her crash one of his precious babies.

“Better say your prayers and hope I can get her down easy,” Krista says, kissing her fingers and pressing them to the top of the cabin for luck before doing her damndest to set them down. If they live, she’s going to need a drink or three.

***

Krista manages to set her down and while she thinks the landing gear might be a little jacked, it’s nothing that’s completely irreparable. She thinks Mel will only partially tan her hide and, really, she’ll take it. She didn’t die, Magnus didn’t die and if they can make it a day or two until the storm passes, all will be fine. Unfortunately, given the way the North is, this storm can go for a night or three and there’s no way of telling until it’s cleared. As it is, Krista can’t waste the fuel on burning heaters and the plane offers them more protection from the wind than Magnus’s gear ever would. It’s still really, really cold.

There’s a bottle of scotch that Mel keeps tucked under the pilot’s chair and Krista fetches it before sitting shoulder to shoulder with Magnus. It’s stupid to keep polite distance when they’re going to need all the warmth they can get. Krista’s already done everything she can to insulate the instruments and she’s got to hope for the best, now, and hope they make it. Maybe it’ll just be a night. She takes a swig from the bottle and offers it to Magnus.

“Drink up. We’re going to have to get really close really quick if we want to live through this. I trust you’ve got polar-rated sleeping bags?” Magnus nods and quirks a half smile before laughing again. Krista’s just buzzed enough to laugh too and she tilts her head and asks what’s got Magnus giggling before everything just slows down. Magnus has reached out and touched a flyaway strand that’s snuck out from beneath Krista’s hat and stuck into her lipgloss and the pads of her fingers brush lightly against the corner of Krista’s mouth.

“I hate when my hair sticks in my lipgloss. It’s completely not superhero, is it?” 

It’s weird, how everything seems to have slowed right down and gotten strangely still and Krista nods woodenly, tucking the errant strand of hair back into her cap and tipping back the scotch for another drink. It burns down her throat but it doesn’t settle easy in her stomach. She’s still flying high on adrenaline from the landing and it’s been since Blake got hurt that Krista’s had sex and, well. She was breaking that off anyway. He wants something she just can’t give him, not now. Not with Bobby Martin breezing back in from down south and Mel being sick, she just doesn’t have it to give.

Magnus at least has the foresight to get the sleeping bag out along with a blanket so at least they’re not being _stupid_ and fooling around on a cold, metal floor when it’s got to be minus 30 out, if not worse. That done, they lay down facing one another and it’s Magnus that reaches out first, cupping Krista’s hip over her jeans. Krista decides then that, yeah, she’s never done this but she isn’t going to play shy violet about the whole thing and she presses forward to kiss the other woman, legs tangling and lips colliding. 

It’s been a hell of a long time since Krista’s made out with someone, _really_ made out with someone without the expectation of getting things on the road and Magnus whimpers when Krista’s thigh presses and rubs between hers while she’s got her hands in the other woman’s hair and her mouth attached like there’s no need to _breathe_ when she’s kissing like this. Krista’s not entirely sure she has to, honestly, and it scares her, being this worked up and feeling _this_ much. So much for detachment.

It’s just bloody stupid to get naked when it’s this cold but Magnus manages to undo the first couple buttons of her shirt and weirdly, fleetingly, Krista wishes she’d worn anything but an old flannel shirt and worn jeans. Magnus shifts the shirt and tugs down one cup of Krista’s bra which makes her hiss a curse (fuck, it’s _cold_ ) but she only feels the sting of cold for a moment before the other woman’s mouth is sealed over her nipple to lick, suck and tease.

It’s a really awkward angle but Krista manages to get one of the other woman’s hands down in her jeans and Krista’s twisted her own fingers so she can get past what feels like silk panties to touch hot skin gone slick with arousal. It all feels kind of teenager and illicit in a way that Krista never was as a teenager and she can tell exactly when Magnus comes because her hips rock up against Krista’s hand and still and the teeth she’s been so careful with sink down and actually bite. 

“Fuck.”

It’s harsh among the howling winds and echoes in the metal of the plane and it’s even stranger still that Krista says it again when Magnus turns her over to her back and tugs down her jeans just enough to fit her mouth between Krista’s thighs. Krista tangles her fingers in Magnus’s dark, silky curls and the contrast between the freezing cold air against the few inches of bare skin between her shirt and her tugged-down jeans only serves to make it so much fucking hotter where Magnus has her mouth fitted over her cunt and her tongue lashing and teasing at her clit.

It doesn’t take long, considering, and when she comes, Krista arches up against the other woman’s face and actually pulls at her hair, only releasing when Magnus lays a wet kiss against her navel and looks up with a smug grin on a face that’s slick with, well, _Krista_. God. Hotter than it should be. Really, _really_ hotter than it should be.

***

When Krista wakes up, she’s tangled in Helen’s arms and a lot warmer than she ought to be in this situation. At some point, Magnus must have tugged the blanket up over them both and while they’re both still mostly dressed, Krista’s bra’s still half off and Magnus’s jeans are undone. It’s weirdly hot, seeing someone so polished and poised skewed and wrecked and, well. Happy. Magnus looks happy.

Krista shakes the other woman’s shoulder lightly and they’re quiet fixing their clothes. Magnus has those little disposable toothbrush things and offers Krista one, which she gratefully accepts, and they eat granola in the quiet of the cabin. It’s companionable silence, not uncomfortable, so when Magnus doesn’t say anything about the night before, neither does Krista. Magnus gets a phone call and Krista wonders how the hell she’s even got a signal out in the bush like this but that’s a good sign: if there’s a signal, the storm’s got to be cleared.

While Magnus takes the call, Krista sticks her head out to see that while it’s dawned cold, it’s clear, and as soon as they dig the plane out from the snow and smooth it down, they ought to be able to take off. The wings look good, from what she can see, and it seems like no harm and no foul. Thank God. Krista’s about to go out and take a better look, check out the landing gear, when a peal of laughter draws her back in. God. That woman had an amazing laugh.

“Dear God, Will, I didn’t crash the plane on purpose. I told you, there was a blizzard and I wasn’t even flying, Krista was. And no, I did _not_ want to show her...honestly. No good times were had, Will.”

Magnus disconnects the call and when she looks up, Krista’s got her best grin and one brow arched high.

“You’re an awful liar, you know. Terrible.” Magnus has the decency to blush and draws a little closer, wrapping her arms around Krista’s waist and sliding her hands down into the back pockets of her jeans. Fuck, if that’s not hot. So hot. It’s not even something that would have ever occurred to Krista before but, then again, _Helen Magnus_ isn’t something that’s ever occurred to Krista before either.

“I know. I trust you can forgive me?”

Krista does, repeatedly, then radioes out to Yellowknife to let them know she’s still got a charter to fulfill because an Ivarson doesn’t back down from a challenge. There’s something knowing in Mel’s laugh, some hint of days gone by that Krista’s never really heard, and she’s really, really got to know about this Magnus woman and her planes.

Later. Much, _much_ later.


End file.
